


A Precious Memory

by FanficsbyVe



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficsbyVe/pseuds/FanficsbyVe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Chosen Undead remembers Rhea of Thorolund and their doomed relationship. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Precious Memory

What is a man but his memories? 

That is a question he often asks himself. Now that the sun has gone down in Anor Londo and the world has been plunged into dark. As the world around him slowly sinks into oblivion, he wonders about the nothingness of himself. If memories define who one is, then is one who cannot remember anything even human?

The people of this city say he isn’t. They fear him; despise him and all others like him. They see him as a herald of the Age of Dark, a signal the golden Age of Fire is ending. It was why he was locked away, in an asylum in a faraway land. There, he had remained until he had gone hollow, losing all memories of his past life and who he even was.

Even now, having long escaped the asylum, he cannot recall. Others seem to know who he is or so they claim. They call him the Chosen Undead, but even he doubts that. Chosen by whom? Chosen for what? He doesn’t know and he doubts he will before his journey will be at an end. 

But will he? One goes hollow without purpose, without sense of identity. He has no identity to speak of. No history to remember or anything to fight for other than his survival. Will he go hollow after this? After all his said and done and there is nothing left?

No.

No, there is one thing left. One memory. A memory of someone else and yet, that memory is the one that defines him.

He looks down at the ivory talisman around his neck as he lingers at a bonfire. It wasn’t originally his. It belonged to a woman. An Undead like him, whom he met at the Firelink Shrine. A woman he loved, whatever that may mean in a forsaken land like this.

Rhea…

It hurts him just to think about her. Rhea of Thorolund, an outcast Undead like himself. Equally hunted and despised, reduced to a burden to be rid of once she received the Darksign. Both facing the same predicament, he had saved her from her tormentors and brought her to the Undead Parish to keep her safe. Still, he had been unable to simply leave her and walk away. 

It wasn’t just the miracles she sold or the things she had to teach them. There was a certain innocence to Rhea. A genuine kindness that few of her heritage possessed. She was a rare pure soul in a corrupted land and for that alone, he could not help but grow to love her. He wanted to save her, along with himself, so they could leave this wretched place and perhaps regain their happiness.

That was never meant to be. He still remembers finding her again in the Duke’s Archives, after the suddenly disappeared from the Parish. She had been kidnapped and her experiences at the hands of Seath’s Channelers had caused her to go hollow. She had been a husk of her old self by the time he discovered her. A Hollow like all others, clawing at him with mindless rage in an effort to end him. He had no option but to put her out of her misery himself and after he did the deed, he had wept beside her broken body. 

He weeps even now, simply thinking about her. Rhea didn’t deserve for her life to end in such a horrific way. She was a victim; someone people only respected because of her family name and then instantly tried to dispose of once she fell out of favor. No one cared about her sweet nature and the kind of woman she could have been if only they had bothered to get to know her... 

His mind goes to their last night together. He had returned to the Undead Parish to visit her. He had stayed with her, conversed with her. They had talked about what they would do if they found a cure for their condition. She had expressed a desire to return home, if only because she grew up there, but confessed that she wasn’t sure how she would feel seeing her family again after how they had cast her aside.

She had then asked him what he aimed to do and he realized with sorrow that he did not know. He no longer had any recollection of his past of loved ones. All he knew at that point, all he cared about, was her and it was with no small embarrassment that he confessed he simply wanted to go where she went. 

In all truth, he had expected her to be angry at him for being so forward. Instead, she had responded positively. She acknowledged his care for her and how much she appreciation and looked forward to his visits. She trusted him and that was more than she could say for anyone else. It had been the best thing he had heard since he escaped the asylum and he couldn’t help but cherish the moment.

She had leaned in to kiss him then. He had welcomed her attention, placing her on his lap. He ran his hands over her body, eager to get to those beautiful curves that he knew were underneath the fabric. 

It hadn’t been the first time they had kissed or been intimate. In their state of loneliness and genuine affection, they both seemed to long for a little more than mere companionship. He had felt guilty about his desires the first time, though Rhea hadn’t agreed. She explained that she wanted this, even if it was depraved in the eyes of Gods and men. They considered the likes of them less than human anyway and as it was doubtful she could ever return home and lead a normal life, she wanted to at least have this. Now, he longer protested. 

Rhea had felt incredibly warm. He could still sense her heart beat, hear her breathing. His own heart was racing and excitement settled into his stomach. An excitement that soon turned to a heat long forgotten when he realized he could even feel her breasts against his own chest. He had responded eagerly, reveling in feeling her so close to him.

Before they became intimate, he had never wondered about the extent the undead state affected him. All he knew was that humanity allowed him to remain lucid, to keep his mind human. He had never thought much about how it affected him physically other than that it allowed him to run, hide and fight. It was only after the first time in each other’s arms that he realized how…alive they still were.

It hadn’t taken long for him to start undressing her. She didn’t protest, wanting it as much as he did and having long lost her shyness in previous trysts. She had been a virgin the first time and he could no longer remember any previous partners. Thankfully, they had been quick learners. He didn’t fumble once as he undid the clasp of her robes, smiling as her beautiful form became exposed to him. A shame, he always thought, that she had dedicated her life to the church when she was alive. The habit didn’t become her, though he supposed it was better than the life of a noblewoman without agency.

She returned the favor fondly and he delighted in the light, almost ticklish touch of her fingers on his flesh. Still, he hadn’t planned on making it easy on her. He pressed his mouth to the soft skin of her neck as she tried to undo his pants. His hands found their way to her breasts and he traced his thumbs across her nipples, causing her to let out a soft squeak of surprise and pleasure. 

She had huffed at him, telling him he should not distract her. Her face had been completely flushed as she said it, however, and he had simply laughed and kissed her. He knew she wasn’t cross with him and he always found it rather endearing to see her so flustered.

Of course, she had been quick to retaliate. Once she had managed to properly dispose of his trousers, she took advantage of his being occupied with her breasts and quietly slipped her hands down. He didn’t realize what she was up to until he felt her hands firmly around his member. He let out a gasp and Rhea flashed him an uncharacteristically devious smirk when she started to run her fingers up and down the shaft. 

That unexpected move on her end had him temporarily outwitted, but he sure wasn’t about to complain. He sat back, leaning against the cold stone wall of the church and enjoying her ministrations. He was more than content to let her decide the pace, until she suddenly bent down and he realized she was planning to use her mouth too. 

He had stopped her then, not sure if she was genuinely comfortable with that level of intimacy yet. She had assured him that she was and that she wanted to try it. He relented, though insisting she’d stop if she didn’t find it pleasant. 

Not that this objection lasted for long. Rhea didn’t seem to mind and while starting out awkwardly, she soon found her rhythm. He reached out to her, running his fingers through her hair as he held her close. The warmth of her mouth all around him made it hard to form any coherent thought and when he felt her tongue running across the most sensitive part of his body, thinking in itself became impossible. 

He groaned softly as the familiar old heat started building in his abdomen. The sight that came with it didn’t help either. Just watching her like this, pleasuring him with her mouth, was the best thing he had seen in a long time. He felt he could watch her all day, only to let out a groan when it suddenly occurred to her to use her hands. It was too much and he carefully pushed her away. 

After wiping her mouth, he had kissed her again. She happily answered, only to moan when he worked one of his own hands between her legs. He carefully slipped a finger into her already wet folds and pressed his thumb against the small bundle of nerves above it. She gasped, nails digging into his shoulders in an effort to keep him close. He quietly undid her embrace, before lowering his head between her legs and replacing his thumb with his tongue.

The soft cries that had escaped her lips only encouraged him. Rhea was not a silent lover and he quite enjoyed that fact. He could feel her quiver under his busy mouth and fingers, begging him not to stop. Naturally, he obliged and he could only smile when she started to thrust her hips at him, her skin flushed and breathing irregular.

Soon, she was reduced to writhing and moaning against him. He could feel her inner walls becoming slick and some fluid running down his hands as she clenched around him. Sensing her anticipation, he pulled back and he could only laugh when she let out some indignant noises. She stilled, however, when he nuzzled her and laid her down, sharing another kiss.

It had been bliss when their bodies finally joined. He hadn’t dared to move immediately, still afraid he might accidentally hurt his lover. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be the case. She reached out and held him close, wrapping her legs around him as she urged him to move. 

He had obliged, starting out at a slow pace. He could feel her breath hitch underneath him and he was soon lost in the feeling of being inside of her. He looked down at her, taking in the beauty of her flushed face and those begging blue eyes. He watched her closed, using a free hand to play with her breasts. He traced a finger around and across an erect nipple, taking delight in the small mewls it elicited.

Her lower muscles had started to squeeze him hard and he soon abandoned his gentle pace. He started to put more force behind his thrusts. She didn’t protest, spreading herself a little wider while bucking her own hips impatiently. A loud moan and unexpected spasm indicated he had found that special spot inside of her. It enticed him to move even harder and she fought him stroke for stroke as they spiraled ever further towards ecstasy. 

For a moment, there hadn’t been an undead curse, monsters or gods to defeat. There had been Rhea and only her, this beautiful young cleric that was his. He was the one she felt safe with and the only one that could see her like this, free of all pretense and propriety as she slowly came apart with pleasure. 

By now, he had no longer been able to contain himself. Bliss was surging through him from where her hot, wet womanhood was violently clenching around him. He groaned loudly, having her accept every inch of him. He didn’t mind the feeling of her fingers burying into his hair nor when she yanked him close and pressed her tongue into his mouth in the most sinuous of ways.

Knowing he would not last very long, his hand reached down between their bodies to find that sensitive little nub between her legs. It took him but a few strokes for her to suddenly turn rigid and she moaned loudly as she reached her peak, her inner walls started to spasm uncontrollably around him. 

That had been all he could take. Within moments, he had followed her climax with his own, releasing himself deep inside of her. His vision went white and he felt like all his senses were set alight. His grip on her grew tighter, eager to have her flush against him as he continued to spill himself with long, unhurried strokes, hoping to drag it out as long as possible for the both of them. 

As the brunt of it had worn off, he had nuzzled her contently. He was glad to see she was smiling and had enjoyed the encounter as much as he did. It took him an eternity to find the motivation to separate from her. It was a somewhat messy affair, but it was not something either he or Rhea worried much about. Undead, after all, could no longer create life the natural way and, for better or worse, this coupling would not cause any complications for either of them.

He had pulled her on top of him, allowing her to rest her head against his chest. She had felt warm to the touch and he enjoyed the view of the blush on her face and her slightly messy hair. His fingers had lazily found their way to a breast again and he listened to her soft, content breaths as he stroked the sensitive flesh. He loved the feeling of her relaxing against him and the peacefulness he felt whenever she was near.

Of course, he had known he couldn’t stay forever, even if he wished to. Anor Londo, and its dark secrets, was waiting. Danger and death were only temporarily shut out. Deep within the ancient city of gods, there might be an answer, perhaps a cure. A way for both him and Rhea to shed their undead states. To achieve that, he’d have to leave her again and continue his lonely journey while she waited here at the Parish.

Still, he told himself, that would come later. He couldn’t yet bear to part with her. He wasn’t ready to slip out of her arms and brave the unknown. Even if he couldn’t stay forever, he refused to leave the company of his lover any sooner than he had to. For now, he wanted to stay for as long as he could. 

Now, sitting at the bonfire, he can’t help but feel he still left too soon. That tryst between them had been the last time he had seen her alive. There were still too many things that he didn’t do and didn’t say. Things he would have wanted her to know before she hollowed. Perhaps, he sometimes tells himself, that would have made things easier. Would have lessened his pain somewhat when he had to plunge his own sword into her heart as her plea for a mercy kill still rung in his ears. 

Yet at the same time, he knows he’s lying to himself. Nothing could have made it easy. Nothing would have changed a thing about the fact that he lost someone dear to him, someone he felt he had to survive for when previously, he had been going on nothing but blind hope.

That makes him think once more on what it means to be human. Are people defined by others too? Can one’s feelings for another shape a person? Can it form their goals and ideals, potentially serving a greater good as they act on those? He doesn’t know, but as he touches the smooth, delicate talisman, he wants to believe so.

He doesn’t know what kind of person he was or where he came from. What life he led before he contracted the Darksign. He may not even know his own name. But there is one thing he does know and that means enough to him that he may brave this perilous journey.

He presses his lips to the last memento of his lost love, before getting up. He quietly feeds some humanity to the bonfire, before picking up his sword and shield. He then looks into the distance, knowing what awaits him, but he no longer feels as helpless. He is willing to fight and despite having lost himself hollowing in an abandoned asylum, he knows who he is and what he fights for. 

He was the lover of a woman named Rhea of Thorolund. A kind, wonderful woman that was worth fighting for. He loved her and she loved him back, however briefly. That is the one meaningful thing he has left, the one thing that now defines him, and he hopes that this will be enough to keep him from turning hollow.

Even if she is no longer there, it is worth seeking out the First Flame, to learn if there is any way to change fate. He should push on, no matter what kind of despair this fallen kingdom will send onto his path. For her. For Rhea. For one precious memory that makes all the difference.


End file.
